Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Four

After the foundations course, my path diverged from Ruth's. With a resume as a professional actress, she was working toward being a high school drama teacher, and I was more interested in elementary, so we didn't have any more classes together. Then, before we had even finished our degree program, Ruth was hired mid-year to replace the drama teacher at the same middle school that she had attended. Meanwhile, once we graduated in December, I was taking any sub job that they called me for, working all over the county, trying to find a toe-hold in what was turning out to be a very tricky job market for me. In February, Ruth organized a dinner theater at her school, and as a favor, I did the cooking with a crew of middle school kids. After curtain call on the last evening, she introduced me to her principal, who shook my hand, complimented the spaghetti and meatballs, and promised to keep me in mind for any openings.

The school year ended, and I didn't have a teaching position. I was just about to take a summer job as a tourmobile guide, when I got a phone call offering me a summer school class-- four weeks of first grade language arts. On a hot day near the end of June, I walked into my first real classroom: 15 desks crammed into a tiny room off the library with bookshelves covered in brown paper. The place had a decidedly "pardon our mess" vibe, but I couldn't have cared less. There was a chalkboard and me, and students on the way.

1 comment:

  1. Wow, I remember my first time in a classroom--I barely made it before the bell rang because what they'd told me when they called me, was not the same as the classroom printed on the schedule. Someone from Orientation recognized me, and pulled me over to the correct classroom. And there they were. . . and there I was.

    We began, just like you. Loving this series--
    Elizabeth

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